Burning Up
by Bellatrix Kale
Summary: While looking for something, things go awry and Sam gets sick, or so they think. - Wincest themes!


**Title**: Burning Up  
><strong>Prompt<strong>: 216 - clue  
><strong>CharacterPairing**: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester, mentions of Bobby Singer.  
><strong>Word Count<strong>: 1038  
><strong>Rating<strong>: M  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Sexual situation, wincest, minor language  
><strong>Summary<strong>: While looking for something, things go awry and Sam gets sick, or so they think.  
><strong>Note<strong>: ...I have no idea what I wrote to be frank. It all just got type off the top of my head. I think my muses got carried away or something.

Stumbling into the motel room, Sam near collapsed before making it to his bed and arms barely wanted to hold him up. Everything was just hurting so much… He still didn't understand what was going on, why his body felt like this and took in a shaky breath.

From the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean practically flailing around the room. How he was fine and Sam wasn't? It was just…impossible. Hazel eyes slipped shut and he could hear Dean rambling off questions directed at him, asking if he touched anything and what he got near and who was around him and…

"Dean," Sam breathed, "just up already. Please."

"…Okay. Can you just answer one thing first?"

"What?" Sam groaned. If Dean didn't shut up soon, he was going to hit him damn it! The sound of his voice alone was annoying and deep and soothing and it was…frustrating.

A hand touched his back and his eyes bolted open to see Dean leaning down close as if to look at his face. The hand just shot heat through his body though and Sam jumped away instantly, falling to the ground from the sudden movement. Groaning, Sam decided to just make the floor his bed and laid down all the way. "Don't touch me," he grumbled.

"Seriously, Sam, did you touch anything? Because Bobby said there were cursed objects down there."

He thought back, eyes shutting to think and putting a hand to his forehead. As a matter of fact, he did. There was a statue of what looked like to be some kind of creature that his hand brushed across a teeny bit. Shit, if that was the cause of whatever this was… Sam noticed his forehead felt hot, as if he had a fever. "Could you come and just like, check to see if I have a fever?" As much as he didn't want Dean touching him currently, Sam needed his older brother's opinion on this.

Dean moved to his side and knelt down, licking his lips with a concerned look as he felt Sam's forehead. That rush of heat swept through him again, having Sam found that focusing on his brother's face was a good option to distract him only made it worse. "Shit, Sammy… You're burning up. The hell did you touch?"

"Nothing!" He looked at Dean, nothing but pain written across his face as the one word came out with a groan. Sam found his eyes focusing on his brother's mouth again, licking his lips and for a split second wondering what it would be like to kiss him. As soon as he realized what he was thinking, Sam asked, "What kind of cursed things?"

"Tell me what you touched and I'll go snap a picture to send to…"

"Don't go back there, Dean." He was stern, not wanting Dean to leave him – not like this, whatever this was. It was painful, not entirely physical pain but he ached in too many places.

Dean shot Sam a pointed look. "And what if there's some kinda clue there to fix you, huh? Then what?"

"Then you…go then. Not now." To address his point that he wasn't going to let Dean leave him, he grabbed a fistful of the jean material around Dean's ankle. His hand tingled at the touch and noticed his breathe was getting more staggered. He needed something else, something that was pulling at the back of his mind and he just couldn't place it.

A tentative hand went to his shoulder with a worried look, both from Dean. "Hey, c'mon, you're gonna be okay. Whatever this is, I'll fix it."

Sam started up into his eyes for a while, watching the concern shift into a half smile and back as things clicked in his mind. "Move your hand Dean. Under."

"Under…where?"

Annoyed with himself and touching the stupid cursed object, Sam moved it himself with his free hand to under the collar of his shirt where Dean's fingers splayed across part of his shoulder and torso. The warmth rushed through him again and Sam outwardly groaned again, eyes slipping shut. "Don't move." This time, it wasn't a warning tone. Sam more or less hope he would just listen to his direction.

And Dean didn't move.

Not until Sam started pulling his belt open. "Whoa, whoa! Sam, what're you doing?" It was pure alarm that laced his voice.

Eyes flickered open for a moment as he undid his jeans, darker eyes watching Dean's face. "I did touch a cursed object. Accident, but…ah, every time you touch me it just feel like fire."

He saw Dean stare at him a moment before he slipped his eyes shut again, trying to push his jeans down some without letting Dean's hand move or scaring him. "…Are you saying whatever you touched wants you to…?"

"Yeah," Sam panted. He didn't know what in god's name Dean would think of the situation, he frankly, he wasn't caring. He just wanted it to be over and to have that old sense of normalcy back. If this was what it took, then so be it. And lucky for Dean, as soon as Sam's hand slipped into his boxers to stroke himself twice - it was over. From the combination of the warmth and the touch, Sam didn't hold anything back. Sam was a little embarrassed though when the feeling of warmth started slipping away and he finally quit the groaning. One passing look at Dean thought lead him to believe things were okay with him. "Uh…"

Dean got up, letting Sam get to his feet and shaking his head. "We won't talk about it. Ever. Not if you don't want to." He paused. "We won't even tell Bobby."

Nodding, Sam fixed himself, righting his jeans and getting to his feet and looking anywhere but his brother. "Yeah, sure." He moved past him fairly quickly to go to the bathroom to shower off, but stopped at the door to look back at Dean a little hopefully with a slight smile tugging at his face. "Thanks. And I'm sorry."

"Shut up and go clean yourself up, bitch," Dean smirked.


End file.
